Chapter 2: The Weary Hero

“P-Pickpocket…! Thief!”

There must be a lot of smart people in the world.

How did anyone even come up with the idea of putting a croissant into a waffle press to bake it?

Unlike regular waffles, it’s not dry — just perfectly crisp, irresistibly so.

Dip it into whipped cream, and the flavor’s divine.

After a few bites, I take a sip of cold Americano.

“Haah… I’m alive again.”

It feels like the air itself is clearing out my chest.

It’s just a snack on a street bench, but I’m satisfied.

The gentle breeze brushing by makes it even better.

And yet… something breaks the peace.

Maybe because the world’s gone mad, but apparently there are pickpockets in broad daylight now.

Some guy had just stepped out of an ATM when a punk snatched his bag and bolted.

“Hey! Kid! Pickpocket! That’s a thief!”

Yeah, I saw it too.

The man looked flustered, pleading for help.

Honestly, I’d already guessed this would happen when that shady guy loitered around the ATM earlier.

Funny how easy it is to read a criminal’s intent.

“Can you report it? Oh— I don’t have my phone. You should go into the bank and ask them to call.”

“That’s not what I meant! You should help! You’re young — go after him!”

The man stared at me like I was insane.

I met his gaze calmly, sipping from my iced coffee straw with the most harmless expression I could manage.

“Why should I? I’m a minor.

And if I chase him and get stabbed, will you take responsibility?”

“Wha—what?! What kind of brat—!”

“You’re the one who got robbed.

So why aren’t you running?

Stop yelling at me and go catch him yourself.”

Ridiculous.

Sure, he’s got a bit of a belly, but still— a grown man like that asking a random teenager to do his chasing?

People these days.

They take other people’s kindness for granted, like it’s their birthright.

“That money’s for my daughter’s surgery…!

Without it, I’m—”

…Okay, that’s tragic, sure.

“I’ve been saving for years to pay for her operation, my only daughter after ten years of trying…!”

…Yeah, that’s even more tragic.

“…Then you’d better run faster.”

I gathered up my empty croffle wrapper and cup, standing from the bench.

Even if the world’s gone to hell, you still shouldn’t litter.

Without another glance, I started walking — in the opposite direction of the thief.

I could feel the man’s furious glare burning into my back, but I pretended not to notice.

I walked slowly along the main street until the corner turned — and then I sprinted.

Because even as I walked, the man’s desperate voice echoed over and over in my head.

“That’s my daughter’s surgery money! Without it, I’m—!”

That cry, so raw and desperate, had wormed its way into me again.

It changed my mind.

If it were the old me — before I’d experienced death — I would’ve helped that man without hesitation.

Even if I got hurt, even if I risked my life, I would’ve stepped in.

Back then, helping others, protecting the weak — it was second nature.

But that’s all in the past now.

Now, as I chase after some petty thief, I can’t help but wonder if I’m just being stupid.

Still… if it were only about that man, I might ignore it.

But when a child’s life is on the line, maybe it’s worth the trouble.

It’s not like I’m risking my life anymore.

As long as nobody finds out I helped, it’ll be fine.

Helping is helping — I just don’t want to be seen as a “good person” anymore.

“Haah… where the hell did he go…”

I know this neighborhood pretty well.

I spent my whole childhood here.

The thief ran toward an area recently destroyed by a gate break — a good place to hide.

A gate that had appeared too late, letting beast-type monsters pour out before they were contained.

I crossed under the police safety tape and stepped inside.

It felt like crossing into another world.

Beyond the line, all that remained were the half-collapsed ruins of buildings, as if a gas explosion had torn through.

They said they’d already wiped out the low-grade monsters, but it looked like civilians had taken the real hit.

Empty house after empty house.

The sweep was finished days ago, leaving the place hollow and silent.

Most people would find it eerie, but for me, it was familiar.

I’d seen scenes like this countless times before.

After some searching, I spotted an old shop building — the only one still half intact.

A perfect place to hide.

And sure enough, there he was.

Inside, near the broken wall — the same pickpocket.

I could even see the stolen bank envelope poking from his pocket.

“Oh, f*ck… did it—”

I couldn’t hear clearly, but he seemed to be talking to someone on the phone.

Strange how angry he looked for a guy who just scored easy money.

I expected him to be celebrating, not cursing.

I picked up a metal pipe lying on the ground.

Unlike my old life, I hadn’t awakened as an Esper this time.

I was below average physically — but so was he.

That’s why I dared to do this.

He was smaller, slower.

I might not overpower him, but with a surprise hit, I could knock him out.

“…Yeah, f*ck, I told you, I picked that guy—”

Perfect.

He was distracted, still on his call, unaware I was behind him.

If I got close enough, one good strike to the back of the neck would do it.

Worried I might kill him?

Take it from someone with experience — people don’t die that easily.

Probably.

Holding my breath, I crept closer.

The nearer I got, the surer I felt — he was scrawnier than I’d thought.

Shoulders hunched, clearly not the fighting type.

Ten steps.

Five.

Three.

Now.

I raised the pipe high, eyes on the back of his neck—

“Told you, didn’t I? Hook, line, and sinker, dumbass.”

The voice came from behind me — not from the man on the phone.

Wait… that voice… I’ve heard it before.

Before I could even swing, a sharp sting pierced the back of my neck.

“Urgh…!”

I didn’t even have time to process it.

The world spun, fast.

No — I was falling.

Strength drained from my limbs as I crashed to the ground.

Two blurred figures swam into my fading vision.

“What’d I tell you? You can tell a sucker just by his face.”

“I was worried your acting was too stiff, man. Guess not.”

The pickpocket was chatting casually with the other guy.

Ah… so that’s why that voice sounded familiar.

The man who’d ambushed me — it was him.

The same bastard who’d begged for help at the ATM.

The one who cried about his daughter’s surgery money.

It was all an act.

I’d been conned. Again.

“The drug wears off in a few minutes — tie him up quick. Don’t damage him! His corneas, organs, blood — all worth money.”

“Yeah, yeah. Damn, this is a good one. Pretty face, too. Maybe we should sell him off before harvesting, huh?”

“Not a bad idea. I’ll call the old perverts first.”

I… trusted someone again.

And got stabbed in the back. Again.

Now I’m about to be gutted and sold for parts.

Serves me right, I guess.

f*ck.